Chapter One
The executives in this goddamn hospital preferred shuffling paperwork to saving lives.
I tore the surgical mask off my face and stormed up the stairs to the roof. Despite the early morning hour, the Texas heat—already hitting the 90s in mid-June—rolled across my body, the humidity sticking to my skin like a heavy, wet blanket coated in peanut butter.
Sweat beaded on my forehead as I pressed back unshed tears and clenched my fists until my nails bit into my palms. I could have saved my patient—a seven-year-old girl with black hair and an adorable gap in her smile—if the system wasn’t total shit.
Children’s Medicaid had denied the treatment that would have stopped her condition from deteriorating to the point that she was put on the transplant list, and the hospital bureaucracy bleated along like sheep, indifferent to the suffering of an immigrant child without top-tier insurance.
The door behind me clicked, and light footsteps approached before my mentor and boss, Dr. Visha Patel, spoke. “Tough case.” Her white coat whipped in the wind as she waited for my response.
I balled my hands into fists. “If they’d approved the treatment weeks ago, she’d be alive.”
Dr. Patel sighed and ran a hand through her long, dark hair. “It’s possible. Or, the treatment would have failed, and you’d still be standing here wondering what you could have done differently. I know I ask myself that every time I lose a patient.”
“This loss was unnecessary,” I argued.
She half shrugged. It wasn’t in dismissal of my feelings. It was the resigned acceptance of a doctor who remembered every patient she’d ever lost but didn’t let the grief crush her passion for the job. “We’ll never know. You care. That makes you a good doctor.”
Tears pricked the corners of my eyes, and I turned away to hide my face.
“Go home, Dr. Morris,” she murmured. “With Dr. Jones back from maternity leave, we’re not short-staffed anymore. Get some sleep and take a day for yourself.”
I scoffed. “Doing what?” As an intern, time to myself was a luxury that no longer existed.
“I don’t know. Watch trash TV. Read a book. Day drink. I saw your fiancé leaving a few hours ago. The transplant wasn’t viable, so he went home. Spend some quality time with him. Maybe plan your wedding.”
My stomach rolled at the thought. “I have patients,” I said weakly.
“I’ll take your cases today. Go home. That’s an order.”
I sighed, turning to follow Dr. Patel through the door. A whoosh of cool air hit my face, and the sweat on my back instantly cooled, causing goose bumps to spread across my skin.
My movements in the locker room were mechanical as I swapped scrubs for yoga pants and a tank top. I sat on the bench, scrolling through my phone as I decompressed. A text from my brother, Merrick, explaining that he and his girlfriend, Kenna, were heading on a road trip. An invitation from Rhetta and Eva to get drinks laterin the week. A funny GIF from Hatchet, my brother’s best friend and a former patient.
And three texts from Luca. I released a sigh as I skimmed through each one. A link to an ostentatious wedding venue with gaudy gold moulding and marble floors. A wedding-day necklace he thought I’d like. And a screenshot of a ridiculous display of flowers—lily of the valley and orchids. My eyes bugged out at the price tag for a single bouquet.
I ignored all of them and pocketed my phone. When we’d met, I’d enjoyed how Luca showered me with expensive jewelry and flowers. These days, his affection chafed like a golden handcuff. Shiny, beautiful, and more cage than comfort.
I stood, my back protesting more than it should at only twenty-six, and slipped out of the hospital before the nurses peppered me with questions. I drove home in silence, with just the hum of my truck’s engine filling my ears. I parked on the curb in front of the oversized townhouse Luca had bought when we moved to Texas, the garage better suited for his sports car than my F-150.
Luca thought it was ridiculous that I wanted such a large vehicle. He’d tried to talk me into a cute BMW or a Lexus instead. But I’d chosen the truck—a Texas girl all the way through.
I unlocked the door and quietly stepped inside. I paused at the door, a rhythmic sound echoing down the hall.
Squeak. Squeak. Squeak.
The distinct beat sounded like … our bed.I hesitated before dropping my purse to the floor.
A low, feminine moan drifted from the room at the end of the hall. My stomach dropped. He had to be watching porn, right?
“Luca,” a high-pitched voice whined.
OK, so the likelihood that Luca shared the same name as a porn star was low. I stomped down the hall, my steps heavy in the way that always led to arguments when I accidentally woke him after a long shift.
For half a beat, I froze in the doorway and stared at the tangle oflimbs and lace on our sheets. I grabbed Luca’s precious glass orb from the shelf—a family heirloom he babied like it was a Fabergé egg—and drew my arm back. I hurled it like a softball, and it sailed through the air, striking the back of his skull with a satisfying thunk. His hand flew to his head as he glanced back, eyes widening at the sight of me.
“What. The. Fuck.” Fury rolled off me in waves.
